Dances with (Were)wolves
by hbrooks01
Summary: Stiles needs a date to the Spring Fling dance and he just can't get Scott to help him out.


"Scott!" Stiles hissed for the third time. Seriously, even with those werewolf senses, Scott could be a little preoccupied.

"What?"

"Spring Fling is in five days."

"Yeah?" Scott kept his voice low. "So?"

"I don't have a date." Stiles wouldn't say that he was exactly whining. "You're going with Allison aren't you?"

"Yeah. She said 'yes' like a month ago. Serious Stiles, I'm trying to pay attention."

"McCall, do you have something to add to this lecture?"

"Yes, Mr. Lund. I think Hamlet's dissociation with his father's death and his mother's apparently betrayal stem from his inability to compartmentalize his past and present self, and I also believe that most of his behavior is acted rather than felt."

"Very well." Mr. Lund continued to drone on in his monotonous tone.

"Dude, that was close." Stiles tapped his pencil against his notebook.

And of course Scott said nothing. While this was certainly a better Scott, academically speaking, Stiles didn't like this new and improved friend. Well, during school anyways. After school werewolf activities, new Scott was so much better to have around.

When the bell rang, Stiles cornered Scott before he could dodge to his next class.

"Come on, dude. You have to help me out. Spring Fling equals Stiles having no date. Stiles needs a date."

"Stiles," Scott said, "needs to let Scott get to his next class."

"Please?"

"Stiles! Seriously, why don't you just ask someone."

"I don't know anyone. Both Boyd and Isaac have dates, you have a date. Lydia is apparently going with Cora. Heck, even Danny has a date. It's poor Stiles left to his first Spring Fling without a date. I don't think anyone will say yes."

"Stiles, seriously, you had like two months to figure this out." Scott readjusted his backpack.

"I was hoping to get asked." Stiles kicked at the ground.

"Really? By who?"

Stiles blushed. He'd hoped Derek would ask him, but that would be … a miracle. "Uh."

"Why not just ask your somewhat lover boy?" Scott said.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles shifted nervously, looking into Scott's puppy-dog brown eyes.

"Dude, everyone knows about you and Derek, seriously. Just ask him." Scott took a step past Stiles, and so he clung on to make Scott help him out.

"I can't ask him. He won't say yes, you know that. He's not about dancing and being adorable. He's about getting stuff done and killing things and growling."

Scott rolled his eyes.

"I can't handle that level of rejection from someone who tolerates me."

"From the way you smell, I doubt he just tolerates you."

"Fine, puts up with for serious sexy times."

"Stiles, just ask him."

It was his turn to put on the puppy eyes, for once. "Please Scott, would you consider it, you know, for me?"

"Fine. If it gets you to leave me alone during Algebra."

Stiles thrust his arms up in triumph. "Deal!"

* * *

Stiles paced his bedroom. He really needed more room to pace. There simply wasn't enough. He'd finally convinced his dad to get him a bigger bed—constant complaining did wonders, really—and the new decorations he'd put up startled him every once in a while when he woke up. It was totally different than it had been for years.

He reread the text.

Scott: so your boyfriend got pissed when I talked about the dance saying how you were looking for a date. like real pissed. expect an angry alpha any time now.

That was an hour ago. An hour to stew and wait for Derek to show up—the Alpha pack had given Derek some sort of werewolf blessing and ditched town. Danny had been devastated when—Stiles couldn't remember if it was Aiden or Ethan—had broken up with him and left town.

So Derek would be coming over. Stiles knew the exact time it took to drive to and from the loft, and knew exactly how long it took Derek to run to his window. Front door was reserved for when the Sheriff was home for Derek to prove he had manners.

Stiles continued his pacing. At the longest, it would take Derek maybe, _maybe, _twenty minutes to get to him. If he was pissed he almost always showed up in twelve. Not one hour. Giving up, he flopped on the bed, muttering into his pillows.

He heard a light noise against the window pane and nearly jumped up. Looking out, he saw that low clouds had rolled in and light drops of rain splattered against the house. No Derek. He was relieved but at the same time he knew Derek would eventually come by.

Stiles flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. He couldn't do homework or anything while in this state. All he could think about and see in his mind were Derek's angry red eyes.

He didn't know he'd fallen asleep until a loud knocking woke him. First turning to the door—not seeing his father there—Stiles mentally cursed and turned to the window. Derek hunched under the short eaves of the roof right outside the window. He was drenched—unusual for him he wasn't wearing his leather jacket—his dark tee stuck to his skin, his jeans plastered to his thick legs. Stiles rushed to open the window.

"Get in," Stiles said. "I'll go grab you a towel and some dry clothes."

"Stiles." Derek was shivering in the cool air.

He'd already grabbed a towel before noticing Derek hadn't entered. "Derek? You gonna come in and dry off? I can let you borrow some jeans or throw yours in the dryer or something."

Derek shrugged, jumped in and stood, dripping, on the towel. He didn't look upset or angry—which, thank god!—but there was something Stiles hadn't seen before.

"So," Stiles said.

"I'm taking you to the Spring Fling."

"Um, Derek?"

"What?" Derek now had that familiar brood of anger.

"Could you ask me instead of telling me? I mean, the sentiment is nice, but …."

"Fine." Derek crossed his arms. "May I take you to the Spring Fling, Stiles?"

Stiles grinned and jumped into Derek's wet arms. "Yes, yes you may. I would love to go with you. Thanks for asking." He kissed him on the cheek.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" Stiles disengaged, and threw another towel at Derek. "We should still dry your clothes and warm you up. Don't want you to catch cold."

"I don't get sick."

"You didn't answer my question, Dee." Stiles rummaged in his drawers. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt. "I think these will fit you."

"It was bad." Derek peeled off his shirt and jeans, standing naked in his room. Stiles took a moment to appreciate the view. Quickly drying off, Derek then put on the offered clothing, though it was a bit snug.

"Really?" Stiles flopped on his bed. Full sized was much nicer than the old twin he'd had. "Why would it be bad?"

"You might have said no."

"Dude," Stiles patted the bed. "I would not have said no."

Derek sat down.

"I mean, you tolerate me and all. We have a good time, after crazy moments where we don't know if we'll live or die, but you know I like you more than that. You're always the one who leaves."

Derek said nothing, turning away from Stiles. If he knew better, he'd have thought the older man was actually blushing. When he turned back his face was normal, read: stony.

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"To a high school dance? Well, first off, you're not in high school so why would you want to go? Second, with me? Third, I didn't want to ruin whatever we had. Any contact is better than nothing from you. Fourth, you don't seem the type to like dancing."

"Wait? What was that third one?"

"I didn't want to ruin what we had?"

Derek leaned in, placing his still cool hand on Stiles' thigh—gently. Suddenly, he was looking into multifaceted blue/green gems and he could see nothing else.

"I didn't know that you felt that way."

"Felt what way?" Stiles could even hear his own heart hammering away like it wanted Derek to know he was nervous.

Derek leaned in, one hand roaming further up his thigh, the other touching his shoulder. Stiles shivered under the cool touch. He was being drawn toward Derek in a way he hadn't been for a long time. Stiles gave in to the desire to kiss Derek—something they hadn't done for months.

Derek's lips were warm and soft. Stiles could feel the chill leaving Derek's skin. He let his hands wander Derek—hesitant at first at the initial contact until Derek pressed ever so lightly into his touch and Stiles couldn't control his hands.

Derek's touch remained constant though the pressure varied from squeezing to butterfly light. Stiles opened his mouth to let Derek in, his thoughts occupied with Derek's lips and Derek's hands and _Derek._ Trying to open Derek up somewhat, Stiles flicked his tongue against the lips locked on his own. Derek relented under assault for a moment before opening his mouth fully to give Stiles an all access pass to wonderland.

Tension fled from every muscle of Stiles' body, and he leaned into the kiss more, wrapping himself around Derek as much as possible. It wasn't until they were chest to chest that Stiles realized he'd been pulling Derek in as much as he'd been trying to pull himself to Derek. Stiles grabbed a fistful of Derek's hair and massaged the other man's skull with more force than was necessary.

Stiles pulled back, feeling his upper lip burn from Derek's stubble. "So," he said, breathless. "That, uh, was nice."

"But?" Derek's eyes were relaxed, his pupils huge.

"But nothing. That was awesome. We haven't kissed in a long time." Stiles let his head fall to Derek's shoulder, and gazed up into his beautiful eyes.

"I know."

"Why?" Stiles was curious; he wanted to know. Kissing Derek—the few times they'd actually kissed—was always mind-blowingly hot. As it was rarer, Stiles loved kissing Derek more than the actual sex they had (though that was also amazing).

"Why what?" Derek's chest rose and fell lightly, arms wrapping around Stiles vice-like.

"Why haven't we kissed more?"

Derek shrugged. "I didn't think you wanted to."

Stiles snorted. "It's way awesome." He wiggled a little closer—if that was possible.

"Is it?" Derek shook a little, a rumble in his chest. "So when is this dance thing?"

"Friday night."

"And do you have tickets?"

"Yeah. I have two."

Derek stiffened. "Did you buy them with anyone in mind?"

"Yeah." Stiles resisted a giggle.

"Who?" Derek remained still.

"You. I wanted you to ask me. If you didn't I would have just gone alone."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. It' s not like the Stiles in great demand."

Derek rubbed his face against Stiles' hair, his fingers clasping around Stiles' waist.

"We gonna talk?" Stiles asked.

"I want to spend the night," Derek said. "Is your dad going to be in?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know. I can text him. Just spend the night. He knows we hang out all the time. I can't exactly lie to him anymore, not after all the stuff that happened this year."

"Okay."

"Okay." Stiles tugged gently, letting himself fall backward. He untangled his legs and kicked off his shoes. They landed with a thud somewhere near his desk.

"Should we …?"

"Not wear clothes? Well, probably."

Stiles' lips quirked, then he jumped up and shucked his clothes, leaving just his boxer briefs on. Derek didn't bother to get up to pull his shirt and pants off. He flicked on the lamp by the bedside and Stiles turned off the main light before crawling into bed.

"Can we …?" Stiles stared. "Can we just sleep? Tonight?"

"Mmhm." Derek lay on his back and pulled Stiles into his chest. "Night, Stiles."

Stiles kissed Derek on his cheek and snuggled into to the man beside him. "Goodnight, Derek."

* * *

Stiles slumped in Algebra class. Scott had given him the cold shoulder—though they were supposed best friends. Didn't best friends listen to problems in English class? Apparently not this new-leaf Scott. When the bell rang, Stiles leapt up and ran to the door. Scott didn't follow, so Stiles had to chase after his friend down the hall in the _opposite _direction of his class.

"Scott!" Stiles said.

"What? Dude, you are seriously making this whole studying thing hard when you are trying to drive me crazy."

"Hey, man, buddy, pal." Stiles patted Scott's shoulder. "We are best friends. Come on! Aren't you even a little bit nervous about the whole dance?"

"Was I this bad when I first met Allison?" Scott sighed, like wasn't even addressing Stiles.

"Yes, yes you were. So I'm entitled to some sympathy here."

"I'm not running back and forth between you and Derek. You two can text each other you know."

"I know that," Stiles threw his arm around Scott. "I just don't know how I'll survive. I've put in the paperwork for him to come; he's all set. Will it be okay?"

"Why are you so worried, Stiles?" Scott gave him a look.

"It's something new, I guess."

"Oh my god. Oh my _god. _You haven't been on any dates with him." Scott looked incredulous.

"No I haven't. So this is like our first dance/date thing. I mean nothing really like this. I'm nervous! You're supposed to tell me it'll all be fine, et cetera et cetera."

"It'll be fine, et cetera, et cetera."

"Scott," Stiles whined.

"Seriously, Stiles. I don't know why you are so worried. Derek is like super happy and all content for days and days after he has your scent on him. Like insanely happy. Every time he sees you, it's gross. He got so jealous when he thought you were going to take someone else."

"So you think it'll be fine? I'm just … I'm not used to it."

"Dude. Go to class, go pick up your suit, get ready. You'll be fine. I'll see you tonight."

"Alright, Scotty."

Stiles ran to his class across the school, sliding into his seat as the bell rang. Though he only felt marginally better, Stiles remembered that he had to vote for Spring Fling King and Queen. The obvious choice was Scott and Allison. Ever since Jackson had gone off to boarding school, Scott had taken over the position of Mr. Popular. Lydia might take the Queen position, but without Jackson, she no longer had the top position. Couples were always more popular than single people. Stiles could never figure that out.

* * *

Stiles fumbled with his suit pants, checking himself out in the mirror. He looked okay: the pants fit differently and more snug than he was used to. The shirt was red to match Derek's eyes (though it looked damn good with his normal eyes) and a vest under a sleek black jacket. He finished tying a shiny blue tie over the shirt when his dad knocked on the door.

"Son," he said.

"Hey, Dad. How's it going?" Stiles looked at his dad.

"Good. You clean up nice. You should more often."

"Dad!"

The Sheriff shrugged. "So did you finally find someone to go with?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to tell me who it is?"

"No?"

"You know, I'll find out anyway."

Stiles turned back to the mirror. "You sure I look okay?"

The Sheriff stepped up behind him, putting an arm over his shoulder. "You look good, heartbreaker. So who's the lucky one?"

"I'm terrible at this aren't I?"

"You are the worst."

"Derek and I will be going." Stiles winced. After a moment, when nothing happened, he opened his eyes. "You aren't going to kill me? Or him?"

"I'm thinking about it. Maybe if I can get one of you to attack me first."

"What?"

"No, no. I'm not going to kill either of you. Why didn't you tell me you two were dating?"

"We weren't … not exactly."

His dad stiffened, retracting his arm. "Oh. I don't think I need to know that. So those horrible, awkward talks were for nothing?"

"Um, application wise, probably."

"Oh god. Is he coming to pick you up?"

"Yeah, he should be here soon. I hope. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

The Sheriff inhaled a deep breath. "You just tell me where he lives, and I'll take care of it, okay son?"

"Okay."

Chimes from the doorbell rang throughout the house. Stiles stood up straight, though he attempted to move toward the door his dad said, "Stay here. I'll get it."

Stiles sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on his shined black shoes. They were newish, but felt better after he'd worn them in. Low voices sounded from the front door. If Stiles had super werewolf hearing it would have served him good at this time, but no. He had normal human hearing.

Stiles fidgeted for several minutes. His father's voice was a bit more prominent, though he could hear a few terse replies (mostly likely Derek) and then a continuing of the longer, scratchier words he knew to be his dad's.

"Stiles." He recognized the command in his dad's tone. "You have a visitor."

"Be right down." Stiles shouted back. God, this reminded him of Easy A. He was surprised his dad didn't say he had a gentleman caller. He checked himself one last time, adjusting his hair again before walking down the stairs. He stepped into the living room and almost froze.

Derek wore the opposite color scheme from him—they'd arranged that—and he was _stunning. _It was like a punch to the gut. Like holy shit how was this possible. Derek looked floored. It took a minute for Stiles to catch his breath and when he did, he glanced at his dad who was just shaking his head.

"Remember what I said, Derek."

"Yes, sir."

Stiles rolled his shoulders a couple times to loosen up and get a grip on himself. This would all be okay. Everything would turn out good. Right?

"You ready?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded, stepping outside while holding the door open.

"You boys be careful, alright?"

"Dad, don't forget to tell us to be miserable as well."

"Have fun!" The Sheriff smiled and shut the door behind Stiles.

Derek walked slowly to the Camaro—freshly washed, it appeared. He waited and opened the door for Stiles. Really? He could open his own car door, but it was a nice sentiment. Stiles climbed in the car, and sat, a little nervous until Derek started the car.

"So, what did my dad say?"

"You have the tickets right?" Derek asked.

"Yeah. What did he whisper to you then?"

"Nothing worth repeating. Lots of threats involving guns and bodies and unidentified graves."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's my dad."

Derek drove in silence for a while. The dance was at the school and Stiles knew all of the Junior class would be there—and most of the rest of the classes as well. This one was special for Juniors though and would solidify the social structure for the next year. Spring Fling was important.

"You look … amazing," Derek blurted out. "Like really hot."

"Thanks." Stiles blushed at the compliment. "You are oh my god wow. So hot."

Derek blushed, though the color was half-hidden by his stubble. He said nothing, but Stiles knew by the slight hunch in his shoulders that he was both pleased and embarrassed about being called hot. Not that Stiles had never told him before—he'd said it plenty of times during the amazing sex. Maybe it was because it was out of context that made the difference?

"Thank you for going with me Derek." Stiles rubbed at his arms. "I mean it."

"You're welcome."

In moments the school came into view, and Derek pulled into the parking lot. He swung the wheel around differently than he normally would, the constriction in this jacket obstructing his normal range of motion. Parking the car, Derek got out and before he could open the door for him, Stiles got out and stretched.

Derek glared a little bit before grabbing his hand and walking toward the crowd wandering through the double doors to the gym. Some girl Stiles had only scene in passing was at the tables taking the tickets. He pulled out the two and Derek's registration card with the school so that he could attend the dance as a non-student.

"Good evening, welcome to Beacon Hills High School's Spring Fling!" the girl said. "May I have your tickets and student IDs? Thanks. Mr. Derek Hale? Do you have a state issued ID? Thank you. Enjoy the dance."

Stiles had his hand stamped in case he needed to go out to the car. Derek extended his hand for a stamp as well.

Music thumped loudly down the hallways. Stiles lead Derek toward the gym, thinking back to about year ago when he'd taken Lydia—somehow Allison had convinced Lydia to agree to go with him, and he'd never figured out how Allison had done it. Sneaky. He hoped this dance was a little better with the whole werewolf bitting thing. Of course, Derek would know what was going on a lot sooner than Scott or Stiles would.

"You gonna be okay big guy?" Stiles squeezed Derek's hand.

Derek nodded.

Stiles lead them to the punch table, and doled out a cup for Derek and then a cup for himself. The music was loud, but not unbearable so. Some teacher probably reacted nicely to Scott's suggestion—now that McCall was know as a goody two-shoes. Stiles wasn't one for loud music anyway. And if he could benefit from this (meaning easier for Derek to hang here) it was all good.

"Want to dance?"

Derek shook his head. "Not yet."

Stiles swayed to the beat, looking for Scott or Allison, or anyone he knew, but scanning the crowd he didn't see any of his tight-knit group. So he moved to stand next to Derek, so that everyone would know who he came with. If that made him vain, so be it.

The song changed to _Crash_. Derek tensed and gently tugged on Stiles' jacket. "Dance with me?"

He practically threw his cup across the room to divest himself of the liquid refreshment. "Um, hell yeah."

Derek snaked his arms around Stiles, pulling him close to sway in time with the music. Stiles leaned in automatically, resting his head on Derek's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Derek's waist. Derek lead them in an elegant dance (much to Stiles' surprise) around the room. Stiles only paid attention to the motion and following as best he could. Toward the end of the song, Derek half-spun Stiles so they were both facing the same direction and then tilted Stiles backward in a dip and kissed him until the song ended. Breathless, Stiles was lifted up and a _Drop It Low_ started playing. Stiles loved the beats in this one, and saw Scott and Allison drifting apart not sure how to dance to the rhythm

"Come on," Stiles said, pulling Derek toward his two friends. He waved as he approached and both of them waved back. Scott was so awkward it was cute, and Allison looked a little uncomfortable.

"Mind?" Stiles said. Derek moved in time to the beat, but he didn't look like he was particular interested in the awesomeness of the song. The pair shrugged.

During the chorus, Stiles dropped it to the floor and went crazy. Hip-hop was great and the fast beat had him sweating in no time. Derek seemed more interested with Stiles basically sexing him on the dance floor—a lot more interested. Allison started taking his cues (though a little more graceful and subdued).

When Taylor Swift's _Love Story _played, Derek pulled him aside for a more up tempo slow dance (away, he noted, from the Love Puppies). Stiles melted into Derek again.

"You know," he said. "I could get used to this whole romantic thing you have going, even if you do need some help with asking."

"Shh. Don't tell anyone."

"But your such a good dancer …." Stiles pouted.

Derek nuzzled Stiles' cheek. "I could get used to you liking this part of me."

At the end of the song, Derek backed into a wall and pulled him closer for a kiss. Stiles opened his mouth, trying to suck the breath from Derek, tasting the sugars from the punch and Derek's own particular flavor. In moments, a chaperon for the dance tapped Stiles' shoulder and they separated.

"Keep it in your pants, kids," the older woman said. She then walked away.

Stiles sighed and rested his head on Derek's chest, though he had to slouch. Derek supported him, keeping him from falling to the ground. The night passed with more slow dance, more kissing (which Stiles thoroughly enjoyed and may or may not have taken sneaky camera pictures of for later posterity) and a little bit more punch.

For some reason Finstock was the one who would announce the King and Queen.

"Alright, alright. It's now the time you pimply kids have been waiting for. Announcing the winners of the social hierarchy for the next year."

Finstock called up all the nominees: Scott, Danny, Greenberg (what the hell happened there?) Allison, Lydia, and some girl named Michelle.

"This year's Spring Fling King and Queen is …" He tore open the envelope. "Aw, what the hell is this? McCall and Argent. Get up here."

Derek whispered in his ear, "Wanna get out of here?" and pulled him out to the parking lot when he nodded. He was sick of watching the Love Puppies be adorable with each other.

"Call your dad," Derek said.

"What? Why?"

"Call him."

"Fine, fine." Stiles pulled out his phone, and punched the quick dial. "Hey, dad?"

"Hey son. Did you have fun? How was the dance?"

"Yes. It was good."

"So, I'm guessing that Hale kid is still with you?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, glancing at Derek. The man was smirking for crying out loud.

"Let me speak to him for minute, okay kiddo?"

"Uh-huh." Stiles handed his phone to Derek, who probably heard the conversation thus far. Stupid werewolf hearing.

"Yes." Derek said. "No, I haven't suggested that. Well, he is eighteen. No, no not implying anything, sir. Of course. Yes. I'll bring him home then, yes. Here he is."

"Dad?"

"So, you have permission to stay the night at Derek's place. I know, I know. You are an adult, but you're still in high school, so you're going to put up with me for a while yet but I won't be unreasonable. He's to bring you home, sober and not hungover tomorrow by noon. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I'll talk to you later. Love you, son."

"Love you too, Dad."

Stiles ended the call and pocketed his phone, then looked to Derek. It seemed like the Alpha had softened somewhat, like he was able to relax. Stiles like Derek more relaxed.

"So," Stiles said. "Thank you for coming with me. Even if it was a silly high school dance."

"It was important to you." Derek leaned against the Camaro.

Stiles pressed into Derek and kissed him lightly on the lips before pulling away to look into his eyes.

"I guess it's time for me to go home." He smiled.

"But I heard what your dad said." Derek looked confused and hurt. "Don't you want to spend the night?"

"Why yes, I would love to spend the night, Derek. Thanks for asking." Stiles chuckled and kissed Derek again, deeper this time, his hips grinding into Derek's. "I'm yours, if you but ask me."

"Poetic, Stiles."

"I mean it." Stiles swatted Derek's chest. "I want you, but I want us to talk about us. I want you to ask me things. I promise to be better about it too."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. Derek, do you mind if I spend the night with you? At your place?"

Derek closed his eyes as if he had to think about it.

"No, I don't mind at all. How about we ditch this party and take it somewhere private."

"I'm all for that," Stiles said. "Just one question, please?"

"Okay."

"Will you be my boyfriend?"

Derek's lips twitched and he grinned. "If you will be mine."

He planted another deeper kiss on Derek's lips, pressing as much as he could into Derek, letting the Alpha feel his desire in a personal way. Their bodies melded together for a short period until all Stiles wanted to do was fuck right there on the car, but with so many people present …. He pulled off, panting. Derek's hair was a mess, his jacket and shirt disheveled from the friction. His expression was blank, but Stiles knew, just knew this was the start of something he'd wanted for the past six months.

* * *

Notes: Part of Teen Wolf Spring Fling. You can find me on tumblr at .com come say hello!


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